


Albion

by psycherprince (thespianAnalytical)



Category: Warhammer 40.000
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, I think?, Implied Sexual Content, Playlist, a compilation of rp threads and short stories, possibly art later?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2020-11-14
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:13:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 20,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27322534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thespianAnalytical/pseuds/psycherprince
Summary: Lady Inquisitor Ephrael Rhiannon and Rune Priest Ulfric Seidrfang receive two distress calls from the same world. Upon arrival, they find the planet in a state of upheaval as the native human population revolts against the planetary governor. The leader of the insurgency is a mysterious figure known as the Sainted Raven, whose psychic might is feared by the opposing guardsmen. Tasked with reconnaissance, Ulfric begins to fall for the Raven, but what lengths will she go to for her revolution?
Relationships: Original Female Character/Original Male Character
Comments: 2
Kudos: 4





	1. Dramatis Personae

**Author's Note:**

> Albion playlist: https://ask-ephraelrhiannon.tumblr.com/post/633052039448051712/albion-playlist  
> Ceridwen playlist: https://ask-ephraelrhiannon.tumblr.com/post/614459565694746624/ceridwen-playlist  
> Follow ask-ephraelrhiannon and ask-rune-priest-ulfric on tumblr, I will answer any questions there!

**Now with original art! (just sketches, will update with lines + color or commissioned art)**

Ephrael Rhiannon: Lady Inquisitor of the Ordo Malleus. Distant and serious, but not truly cold, Ephrael is a psyker and a skilled daemonhunter, and works closely with the Silver Fangs great company of the Space Wolves. Forever battling the scars of her past, she will attempt to save everyone she can. Her archrival is the daemon prince Ishabella.

Ulfric Seidrfang: Rune Priest of the Silver Fangs. Young by Astartes standards, Ulfric is puppylike in his personal life but relentless on the battlefield. He seeks to learn all he possibly can, in order to weave the greatest sagas. The trouble is, he has yet to fully embrace his psychic powers, uncomfortable with the cognitive dissonance of it all.

Ceridwen Aderyn: Rebel leader of Albion. Ceridwen goes by many names, chief among them being the Sainted Raven. Dedicated to her cause, there are few limits to what she would do in order to prevail. Fighting an uphill battle, she uses her strategic genius and sheer psychic might to turn the tides of the war.

Ishabella: Daemon prince of Slaanesh. Formerly Inquisitor Isolde of the Ordo Xenos, Ishabella leads the Slaaneshi warband known as the Misbegotten Muses. She takes pleasure in antagonizing Ephrael in whatever ways she can.


	2. The Call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ephrael receives two distress calls from the world of Albion. Ulfric discusses his recent visions.  
> Short and dialogue-heavy. To be edited, because right now it's just an RP thread verbatim.

A young astropath stood amongst their choir, silent to remain focused. Suddenly their mind became bombarded by two messages, one was clear, coming from another choir stationed on a world known as Albion, while the other, which appeared to have come from the same area of space, was far more disorganized and far less coherent. Only being able to make out the word “HELP” from the second message, they alerted the other astropaths of their discovery. After discussing among themselves, the Choir-Master made the decision to inform the command bridge of the messages. They sent a request to speak to the command bridge of the ship they were aboard, the frigate ship known as the Arete, belonging to one Ephrael Rhiannon, Lady Inquisitor of the Ordo Malleus. 

“Hail! We have received a message from the immaterium!” they messaged into the vox.

Ephrael responded almost immediately, requesting for them to relay the message. Two messages requesting aid from the same world, one of them very strange. She needed more information- she would put out messages to her contacts, ask for anything they knew about Albion. For now, she would discuss the message with her retinue. She called her closest companion into the room. 

“Ulfric? The astropaths got a message, we might be heading out soon.”

Ulfric rubbed his eyes when Ephrael disturbed his half sleep. He had suffered many restless nights due to his visions, but had yet to speak with the Lady Inquisitor on these matters. He perked up a bit when hearing her voice.

“Oh, what did the message entail?”

“Two distress calls from the same world. One was formal, one was nearly incoherent. They’re from a world called Albion, I’m putting out a request for information to my contacts.” She paused, then looked him over. 

“You look awful, have you been sleeping?”

“Oh, that’s fascinating. Definitely something we need to look into.” He hesitated for a moment. 

“No… no, I haven’t been sleeping much over the past couple of weeks.”

She eyed him with concern. 

“I see. Is something bothering you? If you must, go back to your room and rest for a bit longer.”

He looked at her with tired eyes.

“I’ve been wracked by visions almost nonstop. Visions of war and strife, which you’d think is par for the course, but this time it’s been different. It’s almost as if something is telling me an ongoing saga of oppression and hope for freedom. There is always something about a raven. Some type of symbolism I’ve yet to understand.”

“Well, that’s all a bit dramatic, but I suppose we do spend our time hunting daemons, so twists in the story are to be expected. I’m unsure about the symbolism of a raven, though, perhaps it’s something to look into. You go and get your rest, I’ll gather what information I can on Albion.”

“Thank you, Lady Inquisitor.” Ulfric said with a deep yawn. 

Before he made his way to his chambers, he stopped. 

“Ephrael, I remembered something. I knew the word sounded familiar. Albion... I have heard that word in my visions and dreams.”

“Hold on, then- You can’t just say that and walk off, elaborate. What do you know about it?”

Ulfric stopped in the doorway and turned around to answer. 

“What I know is what I told you. A saga of strife and oppression, the constant appearance of a raven, and the mention of Albion.” He reiterated. “There is most certainly a lot to unpack here, but I must sleep. Once I am rested, we can research this together.”

“Of course. Get some more rest, come find me when you wake. If you have any more dreams or visions, write down everything you remember as soon as you awaken, understood?”

“Understood, Lady Inquisitor.” Ulfric said as he made his way back to his chambers.

There, he knew what he had to do. He needed to traverse the wyrd in a lucid state. This was the only way he could find answers.


	3. Whispers in the Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ceridwen's call for help receives an unlikely answer. Again, an RP thread posted with few edits. Written with ask-the-crimson-king on tumblr.

It was always going to be an uphill battle, even with popular support. Her spells, her nightly visions, her careful strategies- all of it just barely kept her a step ahead of the Sussex Hierarchy’s forces. A stalemate. Her rebels were dying, she had no doubt the Hierarchy could outlast them if it came down to it. She needed something more, some kind of edge, even just some guidance.

Some spells had been lost to time, labeled forbidden or dangerous. Nothing is off limits for her, now. She’s desperate. So, after making preparations for her safety, she casts her message into the great seething ocean of energy she’s always felt seeping in at the edges of her spells.

**+ _Can anyone hear me?+_**

Magnus was away from home, on a world in a nearby system. A world teeming with psykers, some who had only recently learned of their abilities, and a place where the waves of the Great Ocean broke over it often. The world was going to be subject to Exterminatus, as was the entire system it was located in, but Magnus wanted to claim the system as a part of his own growing empire. There were too many psykers here for him to miss the opportunity.

He was in orbit within his flagship when he heard the call. It surprised him, given how the fighting below was stirring tumult. He tried to locate the source, finding it to be out of this system. Even more peculiar.

**_+I hear you,+_** he replied. **_+And I am assuming you hear me.+_**

Ceridwen thanked just about every god she could think of, beyond grateful for a reply. A reply. Finally, a stroke of good luck, just the thing she needed.

**_+Yes, I hear you. My name is Ceridwen Aderyn of Albion, I seek guidance.+_** Everything she’s ever read told her help from the other world doesn’t come for free, but she was desperate enough to consider any tradeoff for the success of the rebellion. **+ _I realize how arrogant it must sound to ask, but… Can you help me? My world is at stake.+_**

Magnus looked to the world below, listening to the aetheric voices of his sons trying to coordinate together. The Imperial forces occupying the world were stronger than initially anticipated, it seemed. He may have to go down himself, although it was something he wanted to avoid. The first impression he wanted to have upon the people was not one akin to a wargod wreathed in flame. 

**_+Help you how?+_** He replied, half-distracted by his thoughts. Albion, there was a name that sounded familiar. He tried to follow the thread of Ceridwen’s psychic voice in order to peer into her mind and see the situation for himself. Cautiously, subtly, so he did not give his identity away yet. He did not know how she would react, or if he was even the intended recipient. 

She didn’t have the proper terms for what she was or what she was doing- though no stranger to her psychic powers, she referred to herself as a “witch.” The situation, as best he could interpret it through her different vocabulary and lack of knowledge beyond her own planet, was this: the planetary governor and ruling elite installed by Imperial forces on Albion, an often overlooked feudal world, had been oppressing the native humans of the world, a population with a relatively high proportion of psykers, for longer than anyone living could remember. Ceridwen had started a rebellion, which had quickly gained immense popular support. Her strategic abilities and knack for surprising the enemy helped keep her forces afloat despite the differences in weaponry and organization between the rebels and the forces of the planetary governor, but kept the war at a stalemate. Imperial forces from off-planet had yet to get involved, but given her habit of seeking out warp entities for help in battle or knowledge of her enemy’s plans, it might not take long.

**_+I’ve bargained with creatures of the Other World before, for bits of information and temporary assistance in battle, rarely the same spirit twice. It hasn’t been enough. I need… guidance, I need knowledge, if I am to defeat my enemies.+_ **

The primarch looked over her recent memories with a small bit of surprise. How she was able to stage a revolution so quickly was quite impressive. Especially since she was now at a stalemate against the forces stationed on the planet. He looked down at the world locked in war below, seeing that, finally, his Legion was regaining control. Good. He sent out a quick message to one of the sorcerers back on Sortiarius, instructing him to prepare his warband for deployment.

_+Is there a complication, Lord Magnus?+_

**_+No. I am sending you elsewhere. There is a world that has sparked my interest.+_** He sent what he had learned from Ceridwen’s memories, while responding to the psyker in question, **_+Help is coming, although it may not arrive immediately. Do you think you can hold on, or is the basis of your need urgent?+_** To his son, he said, **_+Go swiftly, before the Imperium takes notice. This can be ended within hours if handled correctly.+_**

_+Understood.+_

**_+I believe I can hold on, though not indefinitely. There is no telling when the next battle will come, and my forces are waning. I am deeply thankful for your help. Is there anything you require from me in return?+_** Most spirits she had encountered wanted little more than recognition by Ceridwen and her forces, given their influence over the native population of Albion. The more that people believed in their strength, the stronger they became, this was long known by the witches of Albion to be true. Will and belief were powerful things.

Magnus hesitated before he gave Ceridwen a response. **_+When help arrives, I would like you to submit to them. When the battle is over, they shall offer you transportation elsewhere. Follow them. Bring other psykers of promise with you, if you can.+_**

A small force of Thousand Sons would be left on the world to help secure it, but almost all psykers will be brought for proper training. Some will, unfortunately, not be able to make the trip. As for the others, they will be able to hone their skills and truly become a force to be reckoned with, in their own right. Magnus doubted any may be able to challenge one of the senior warriors within the Legion, but they would not need to.

For the first time, she hesitated. **_+I mean no disrespect, but you understand that I must ask about your intentions? I don’t intend to liberate my people from one tyrant only to deliver them to another, and I have my doubts about leaving my planet in unknown hands after the battle. This is not a rejection of your offer, simply a request for clarification. I do not mean to offend you.+_**

She did need the help, desperately, but… she needed to carefully consider her options. And what in the world was a “psyker”? It seemed as though the voice knew her to be one, but she had never heard the word before.

**_+I wish to create a haven for psykers. A place for them to practice their abilities without fear of death or persecution. A place for them to practice safely, of course. I know full well the dangers of untrained and unrestrained psykers.+_** He could sense her further confusion, and so he decided to elaborate. **_+You may call them sorcerers or warlocks or wizards or a myriad of different, mystical-sounding names. Those who draw their abilities from the Warp._** ** _I do not intend to rule as a tyrant. I shall be a liberator, of sorts, as grandiose and self-aggrandizing as that sounds.Trust me, you will be safe. Safer than you ever will be if you stay with the Imperium.+_**

**_+If that is the case, then I gladly and gratefully accept your conditions. I will prepare my people- all the “psykers” I can convince- to travel with your forces. I will make preparations so that I know the planet will be in good hands after it is liberated. Thank you for your generous assistance.+_** Forces that would take her away from her planet, a haven for witches- no, psykers- like her and so many of her people, assistance that could turn the tides of battle. It was all so much to process. But she had accepted his help, and was confident she had made the right choice.

**_+Excellent. My sons shall be with you shortly. They should provide the right amount of force to ensure victory for you and your people.+_** As he spoke with her across the aether, he walked to one of the libraries upon his flagship. The name of that world sounded too familiar. **_+Before I leave you, the name of your world is Albion, correct? I just wish to double-check.+_** He started going through the shelves, searching for a book of Imperial space. He found one, and he quickly searched through it. 

**_+Yes, Albion. I’m afraid I can’t give you any information about our location relative to you and your sons, it was not until recently that I learned of the reality of other worlds. Thank you again for your assistance.+_ **

She had little knowledge of this at the time, but she had just exponentially increased the scale of the conflict.


	4. The Wolf and the Raven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ulfric traverses the Warp and has an unsettling encounter. Another RP thread with ask-rune-priest-ulfric.

After receiving the distress signal, Ulfric knew he had to meditate on his recent visions. He rested in his chambers as he allowed his mind to drift upon the sea of souls. As his mind wondered the room around him vanished and he found himself in a strange place: a forest in the early hours of twilight filled with fluorescent fairy circles and floating orbs drifting lazily through the understory. It was only when he took a step forward did he notice that his form had changed. No longer was he a eight-and-a-half foot tall transhuman, now he had taken the form of a large white wolf. “Perhaps this represents the inner beast that all my brothers contain within them,” Ulfric mused.

He traversed the twilight forest for some time, not encountering another soul. Once he reached a small stream he took a drink before deciding this would be the best spot to find other souls. He sat by the waters edge, howling out into the night, hoping that someone would answer his call.

It took some time before he heard rustling in the forest across the stream. From one of the trees, a large raven descended to the ground, meeting his gaze with shining, intelligent eyes. Another soul, finally. It studied him, for a moment, tilting its head and sizing him up. He could almost imagine a human voice would come out if it opened its beak. A raven, like in his visions. Could it be the woman with the mask he had seen glimpses of?

Ulfric studied the raven in return. His piercing blue eyes were locked onto the bird as he gathered his thoughts. He had to take a stab at it if he was to get answers. He sat down on the river bank, trying to look a bit less imposing. If this truly was the spirit of the strange woman, he didn’t want to come off as an enemy. “Greetings, fellow traveler of the soul sea.” He was beginning to remember how hard it was to communicate in low gothic. He mostly spoke his native Fenrisian and high gothic. He could only hope that in the sea of souls, being multilingual wasn’t a necessary skill. “My name is Ulfric, I was just getting a drink from the stream and was wondering if there were others who wished to join me.”

“You can call me Ceridwen. Are you a being of the Other World? Or are you a witch like myself?” Her voice had a strange cadence to it, almost lyrical. The terms she used were ones he hadn’t heard others use to describe themselves, but they were similar enough to what he was used to that he could understand her. She was asking if he was a warp entity or a psyker like her.

“Ceridwen, what a lovely name.” Ulfric said as he gathered his thoughts for the Raven’s inquiries. “I am a creature of the material realm, and I am also what you would call a witch. But where I’m from, I’m known as a priest or maybe a shaman. I specialize in tempest and runic magic, myself.” He had to be careful to be vague about his powers, he wasn’t fully sure if this woman could be trusted yet. Finally, he got to the point. “Now, Ceridwen, I need you to tell me: are you the one who sent out that signal for help?” And was she the one whom he had seen in his visions?

“You received my call for help?” Her voice perked up, Ulfric could discern notes of excitement and anxiety in her tone. “Then I’ll introduce myself properly. I am Ceridwen Aderyn of Albion, best known by my people as the Sainted Raven.”

So, she was most likely the one who had appeared in his visions. “Well, Ceridwen Aederyn of Albion, this leads me to ask why you sent out a distress call. If you don’t mind me asking.” He took another quick moment to ponder on her title. “Also, how did you gain the title of ‘The Sainted Raven?'”

“The answer to both questions is this: I am seeking to free my people, the Tuatha, from the crushing grip of the Sussex Hierarchy. People like you and me are often killed on my planet, and among the Tuatha, we are common. I am the leader of the rebellion on Albion. We are outgunned and outnumbered, and it is only through my power and careful planning that we have stayed afloat this long. We desperately need reinforcements. I don’t know when, or if, the others are coming.”

A rebel Sorceress trying to save her people and her fellow psykers from an oppressive planetary governor. Ulfric could understand that sentiment. But psykers left unchecked could cause untold devastation. Clearly there had to be more to this, though. “I understand your desire for reinforcements, I’ll need to look more into that. I have connections that can provide much in the way of military might. ” but then he remembered about what else she said, ‘the others.’ “You also make it seem like I’m not the first person you’ve contacted for aid. Who are the others?” Now, Ulfric had reason to be concerned: this type of uprising could easily become corrupted by the ruinous powers.

“The others, right. I’m not sure where they come from, but I was able to get a response from… some being of the Other World, promising reinforcements so long as I and any other talented witches- no, what was the word- psykers? Left the planet with him afterwards to learn more about our powers. It was a difficult decision, but I’m in no position to refuse help, and the opportunity to learn more about what I can do is certainly tempting.”

Ulfric already had a hunch of what entity would offer such a treaty. This screamed of his chapter's greatest foe: the Red Cyclops. “Did you see what this entity looked like?” was all Ulfric could say in response, in a tone of surprise underlaid with slight fear. The fur on his back stood up as he stood back up on his four paws.

The raven’s feathers puffed up in alarm at the wolf’s sudden movement. Still, she answered. “I have only the vaguest idea of what he looked like, it was a rather strained connection. Is something wrong?”

Ulfric exhaled to relieve some tension. He didn’t want to make her hostile. “I’m sorry for my sudden outburst. Ceridwen Aderyn of Albion, I feel for your plight, and understand your people’s cause for revolution. The Sussex hierarchy have clearly overstepped a boundary that should never be crossed.” The ground around Ulfric began to be covered in a very thin layer of hoarfrost. Then, he continued. “But Ceridwen, you are dealing with forces far beyond your comprehension."

“With all due respect, who are you to tell me the limits of my comprehension? If I cannot count on you for reinforcements, I must count on him. My talents have already begun to develop beyond what I thought possible, since I began conversing with him, and beyond the most skilled witches of my people as well. Without my talents, I stand no chance, but with them… The people call me their saint, their savior. I cannot let them down.”

“I know better because I have seen these forces before and what they do to the people they ‘save.’” Ulfric replied as his anger grew. He truly wanted to help her, to save her, but Ceridwen may already have been too far gone down the path of corruption. “I must do what is right, Raven. What is just.” Around him, the air grew cold as the forest shadows took the shape of wolves and ravens. His icy eyes were locked with Ceridwen’s pale ones. The howling of wolves and the caws of Ravens filled the forest surrounding them. Ulfric merely said, “The Vlka Fenryka shall come to Albion,” as he sized up the Raven.

“Come what may, I will do whatever is necessary to help my people. Your threats are of little consequence.”

\--

As Ulfric reentered reality, he took a deep breath and gathered his thoughts. Now, he knew that Albion was of utmost importance. If Magnus the Red was involved, this could only turn out badly. He put on his robe and made his way to Ephrael’s quarters. She had to know of his discovery.

Ephrael, meanwhile, was exhausting every resource to learn about Albion. Her contacts, her books, even her Emperor’s Tarot. Between herself and Ulfric, she realized psychic insights may be their best resource- no one else seemed to know or care much about the planet, and nothing she read indicated a world prone to attack.

Ulfric entered the room red eyed and near unconscious. He proceeded to fall face first onto Ephrael’s bed, followed by very loud snoring. Once he got his sleep, he must share what he had learned.

She looked at the Space Wolf sprawled out on her bed and sighed. “I guess I won’t be sleeping for a while longer.”

He was talking in his sleep. “Beyond saving….. the raven….” “Lost hope…. corrupt… victim” “Red…Cy”

It didn’t seem as if he was having a nightmare, so she continued to let him sleep, but jotted down the words he was saying in her notes. They could talk about it when he woke.

Ulfric’s mind felt at ease when within the presence of Ephrael. He felt safe. After a couple hours he awoke, half hoping to see Ephrael curled up next to him, but he knew better. Now was not the time for that. He got Ephrael’s attention by saying “Hey… hot… warrior… I have learned a bit about the current situation on Albion: it’s bad.” 

She barely even registered the tired flirting when compared to what he said after that. “Bad? How bad, and how come? You were talking in your sleep, did that have to do with it?”

"Bad as in 'Magnus the Red is offering support to the native rebellion' bad.” Ulfric then elaborated that it was crucial for them to commit their forces to Albion to prevent a possible daemonic incursion and to prevent the Thousand Sons from getting new followers and potential sorcerers.

“Have you managed to learn anything about Albion? I basically responded to that really weird and abrupt psychic message, but how about the ones sent by what I assume are Albions astropathic choir?"

“No one seems to know or care much about the place. It’s of no strategic or material importance, the only notable thing about the place is the high proportion of psykers among the native population. Which explains why the Thousand Sons would want to be involved, I suppose. I responded with a request for information, the planetary governor has yet to answer. It’s surprising that the rebellion has gotten to be such a problem, it’s a feudal world, they shouldn’t have the firepower necessary to overcome Imperial forces." She opened a tube of dark red lipstick and began to reapply it. "Inform the crew that we leave at once."


	5. Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ulfric arrives on Albion and makes contact with the rebels. Ceridwen accepts the help of her newfound "sky warrior." RP thread with ask-rune-priest-ulfric on tumblr.

When she mulled over her particularly vivid dreams in what little free time she had, Ceridwen gave a little extra thought to the wolf she met in the Other World. His questions, his warnings. It made little difference- there was no way to win this war without outside help, and she had to take it where it was offered. She had no idea of what was to come.

Ulfric felt at home in the winter forests of Albion, scouting out the tense situation on the planet for Ephrael and the Silver Fangs. Already, he understood the motive for rebellion. The planetary governor could be described, at best, as a massive failure, and as actively malicious at worst. If the rebel leader, the Sainted Raven he met in his dreams, could be reasoned with, perhaps a solution could be reached. The sounds of a nearby battle snapped him out of his thoughts.

Rushing to the battlefield, he was surprised to see insurrectionists pushing back Imperial troops, using the forested terrain to their advantage. One figure stood out from the rest. A shock of red-blonde hair and a black feathered cloak whipped around her as she decimated the Imperial forces with psychic attacks. Despite the black beak-like mask covering her face, her voice was clear as she called orders to her fellow rebels. Overwhelmed by her sheer psychic presence, Ulfric could do little more than stare. He had never seen this level of power from an ordinary human.

Cheers and whoops rang out as the last of the Imperial forces began to flee, soundly defeated. Finally breaking out of his stunned state, Ulfric followed the rebels back to their nearby camp, where a celebration began- a bonfire was built, the adrenaline in the air was palpable. He was more concerned with the leader than with the party- she was familiar to him. Could she be the raven he had met in the Warp? It took a bit of looking to find her- she had removed her mask- but he quickly accomplished the task. Her long red-blonde hair helped distinguish her from the crowd. The woman, even when calm, gave off a strong aura. Ulfric tried his best to blend into the crowd, wearing hide clothing most of his battle brothers wore in their off time. This, along with a wolf fur cloak, made him seem rather unassuming- if it wasn’t for his height. He didn’t bring any weapons with him outside of a hunting knife and a force staff. The staff was decorated with runes, feathers, bones and wolf talismans. He slowly meandered towards the central bonfire where the Sainted Raven and her coven were convened. 

Ulfric could recognize her psychic signature, so he knew she could probably do the same. He tried his best to mask his using protective talismans, but only time could tell if they would hold. Luckily, the language of the Tuatha wasn’t too hard to pick up, just another form of low gothic. With that he found a seat not too far from the woman’s location where he could hear any conversation easily. He purposefully sat himself in her line of sight and lowered his hood, revealing his piercing bright blue eyes, long blonde braid and his somewhat noticeable fangs. He took a swig of mjod he kept in a flask, just as a backup and tried to look as inconspicuous as possible, difficult considering his social awkwardness and his sheer size. Then, he focused his hearing on the group around the main campfire, to better comprehend the situation.

He caught a snippet of conversation- “Tomorrow, we’ll continue pressing towards the city-” before the woman looked at him. “-but it seems we have an eavesdropper, now.” She stood and approached him. “It seems as though we’ve met, though not in person- I would have remembered someone like you.”

 _Well, so much for protective talismans_ , Ulfric thought before he gathered his words to reply. He managed to hold back his embarrassed blush, as he replied “My apologies, I didn’t mean to eavesdrop.” He was lying, of course, but it was just a sudden response. “But… yes, it does seem like we may have met. You do remind me of someone close to me. As well as, as dumb as this sounds, it’s as if I’ve seen you in my dreams.” She was strikingly beautiful and intimidating, This woman really did remind Ulfric of his beloved.

“I understand the feeling completely. Should we find somewhere private to talk? I’m sure we both have questions for each other.” She seemed completely unafraid to be alone with this giant of a man- Ulfric was again reminded of her terrifying power on the battlefield. Should they fight, it wouldn’t be an easy victory. As she looked at him, he got the sense that she was evaluating him, a calculating glimmer in her pale blue eyes.

Ulfric rose to his feet. He towered over the Sorceress yet she seemed unfazed. She was assessing him, whether or not he was friend or foe. To be honest, not even Ulfric knew which side he was truly on. But he wouldn’t allow her to intimidate him just from her aura and psychic might alone. Something told him that she didn’t know what Ulfric truly was, so perhaps her lack of fear didn’t lie in bravery but ignorance. He gave a kind smile. “Yes, let’s find a place with less noise and prying eyes. You lead the way!” He gestured with his staff.

She led him away from the clearing, away from the light of the bonfire, into the trees behind one of the larger shelters. Before too long, they reached another, smaller clearing, lit by what seemed like hundreds of tiny, luminescent insects in the air. The sorceress took a seat on a tree stump and gestured to a nearby log as if inviting Ulfric to sit as well. “This should be far enough. Now then. You are the wolf I met in my dreams, yes?”

“Yes…. I am. Then you must be the Raven, respectively” He replied in earnest “ I will be honest, I am surprised you found me so quickly. Hoped to be a bit less noticed. What is it that you wish to speak about? I have come to better understand your situation.” Ulfric took a seat on the log, taking good care to keep his focus on the Sorceress. 

“How much do you already know? I don’t want to waste our time with repetition.” She wasn’t sure if he was friend or foe, but she was relatively confident she could sway his opinions if he himself was undecided.

“Your people are fighting against the authoritarian rule of the Planetary Governor, who is a descendant of people from beyond the stars who treats your people as little more than chattel, despite being from the same species. The natives fight using guerilla tactics making use of their larger numbers and understanding of the terrain to their advantage, this makes up for the gap in technology.” Ulfric said taking a breath before he continued. “While you use autoguns, swords, little armor and have a very poor understanding of vehicles or heavy weaponry, your people have the ultimate advantage with your psykers. With the power of the Sea of Souls to your advantage, you are able to bypass much of the PDFs advantage of modern weaponry. I do not fully understand your people’s history or all your tactics. But I believe you can fill me in more on why you seek aid from off world. Is it because you are reaching a stalemate?” Ulfric asked curiously, in his most diplomatic tone possible.

“I’m not ashamed to admit that we need assistance in this war. My people have an advantage in the forests, but the PDF will have the upper hand once the fighting enters the towns. Defeat is simply not an option. That is why I called for help. Many spirits of the Other World have offered their aid, but I know they cannot be trusted. I’m not that desperate yet.” That was a bad sign- but perhaps the worst could still be avoided.

He made a mental note of the “spirits of the Other World”. When it comes to whether or not he sympathized with her plight, it was simple. He fully sympathized with the cause and wanted to aid them, but he must discover if they are corrupted, and eventually how this new power would feed the Imperium’s ever hungry tithes. “It is good to see that you are weighing your options. That is true, the PDF and Astra Militarum elements will have advantage in urban environments, but that is beside the point for now. I have come to you to learn about your motivations, goals, and plans for your people. I wish to better understand their plight, culture, and history.” replied Ulfric. “I would be most humbled if you showed me, sorceress.”

“My motives are simple. I wish to create a world in which all the people of this planet are treated fairly. My coven and I have been debating the specifics, as victory seems possible. However, it seems as if any change would be a good one. The governor branded my people as witches, due to our strong connection with the Other World. He would have groups of us kidnapped or killed often, we lived in fear until we began to fight back. He treats his own people poorly, but he treated us as subhuman. If we don’t win this war, it’s likely we’ll be wiped out completely. That is our plight. As for our culture, I will do my best to summarize. We’ve long been an agricultural and hunting society, and we yet provide much of the food for this world. We have a long tradition of effective herbal medicine. We may have a strong connection to the Other World, as I mentioned, but we still worship the same as anyone else on this planet. We believe He reaches out through the Other World, though we know there are more dangerous spirits out there as well. The governor claimed that we serve these spirits, but that is untrue. We all know the dangers of the Other World well.”

They still worshipped the Allfather. That was a good sign. Perhaps she and her people were still able to be saved. Depending on how Ephrael’s talk with the governor went, perhaps this could be ended peacefully. "This sounds like a genuine plight that deserves to be supported. But you must understand that I cannot just dedicate a large number of troops and resources without getting a full read on the situation on a larger geopolitical scale.” All this politics talk was merely things he’d picked up from Ephrael and interactions with marines of other chapters more well-versed in this theatre. He hesitated for a moment, as if weighing his options, then continued. “I still need to grasp the full scale of this conflict. Perhaps if you would let me, I could travel with your forces and coven to get perspectives on the fields of war, I can, in return, be in an advisor role for the time being. I have a vast understanding of how to fight in just about all combat environments, urban included. I can lend my tactical know-how if you’d allow me.” Ulfric couldn’t help but peer at the sorceress’s stunning complexion. maintaining eye contact while still absorbing the full body. She really did remind him of the Lady Inquisitor.

“So long as you understand that if you make yourself our enemy, I will have to kill you, it seems like a decent enough plan. For the time being, I would love your help.” For the first time, she offered him a smile. Even in the dim light, she was beautiful.

“Very well.” He returned her smile with one of his own. He did not know if Ceridwen knew of the Astartes, they were all quite odd in appearance. But Ulfric hoped his fangs weren’t too off-putting. “So….” Ulfric blushed slightly. “Should we get back to the fire or do you want to stay here for a little while longer?”

She looked away, face slightly pink. “I think I would like to avoid my responsibilities for just a little while longer, if you’d like to keep me company.”

“I’d love to do nothing more.” Ulfric said as he moved to sit closer to the Sorceress. “What do you want to talk about Ceridwen?” Ulfric asked in a warm tone.

“Tell me about yourself, Ulfric. Where are you from? Is it different from here?" She looked at him again, eyes shining with genuine curiosity.

“Okay…. by the Allfather, where to start?” He pondered aloud. He didn’t want to reveal all his secrets, in case things went sour. “I am from a world of ice and fire, where most land is only temporary at best, filled to the brim with deadly monsters on the land, in the sea, and sky. Those of my home are people of ship and axe, ferocious in battle, living off the land and sea as we stake out a place in its natural order. Life often burns so bright and dies so young. My kind battle amongst themselves over resources, as they have little understanding of what lies beyond the stars. All they ever know is the tumultuous ocean and land. Yet on the one solid landmass, what we call in my native tongue “Asaheim,” the Sky Warriors lodge and train. The one force that connects all the tribes.“ Ulfric hesitated, he was going on one of his saga performances again. He may have been a rune priest but he was still a skald at heart. “If I’m talking too much, I can stop now. I can tell you more of my homeland's history and culture if you’d like me to, though.”

“Tell me more. What of these Sky Warriors?” She leaned forward, engaged by his storytelling. “What differentiates them from the others? What is their role?”

He froze for a second. He most certainly didn’t want to give away to much information here. “The sky warriors… are those chosen by the Allfather to fight in his name and defend humanity. Demi-gods of iron will and steely strength. They are his bulwark against terror. We…. they are the defenders of humanity. And they know no fear. Or perhaps you’d like it worded more prose than poetic.” Ulfric looked at Ceridwen awaiting a response. He began fidgeting with his braid.

“Fascinating. And you are one of these Sky Warriors, then? You said ‘we.’“ She was perceptive enough to catch that. Still, she seemed largely unbothered by that fact, now that she had a tentative alliance with him.

He chuckled a bit “Perhaps, Ceridwen. Perhaps”. He continued to fidget with his braid, trying to keep himself from getting flustered or nervous. “But everyone has to have a secret. Perhaps that one is mine.” He smiled warmly.

“Well, Ulfric, your secret is safe with me. I had already puzzled out that you’re no ordinary human.” She watched the way he played with his braid- it was cute. “We should get back to camp before I’m missed. My tent is the only one large enough for you, if you would like to stay in one.”

He laughed. "What was your first clue? My fangs or the fact I'm over 2 meters tall?” He stood up and stretched. “But yes, we should probably get going. And I would be honored to share a tent with you, if that is what you wish.”

They walked back to the bonfire together.


	6. Surrender the Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ulfric and Ceridwen grow closer, on and off the field of battle. RP thread with ask-rune-priest-ulfric on tumblr. Slightly implied NSFW at the end.

Nearly a week had passed since Ulfric first entered his tenuous alliance with Ceridwen. He worried he had given away too much information, just incase this all was for naught. Over that time, Ulfric and Ceridwen grew closer. He aided in command of overall strategy, and used this time to observe the unsanctioned psykers, or as they called themselves, “witches.” So far, the local outlying towns had been pushovers, with little to no resistance. It appeared that the first battle Ulfric watched had made a heavy blow to the PDF, requiring them to retreat and lick their wounds. But now, they had a true fight ahead of them: The fortress of the planet's Adeptus Arbites. While far from the discipline seen by the PDF, the Arbites made up for that with sheer raw mid to close range fire power and primal brutality. The siege had been underway for over 3 days, and for the insurrectionists, every second counted. They were not built for sieges. Now, Ceridwen, her coven, and her new “Sky Warrior” ally had decided to take the fortress in one fell swoop. The psykers were sent to the front. Ulfric fully cloaked himself in furs and hides, to best hide his appearance as an astarte. He set off on his own, with force staff, bolt pistol and knife he took out key targets, only smiting heavy weapon emplacements. But while he was getting through with relative ease, Ceridwen was having far more difficulty.

He noticed the arcing light of psychic energy on the battlefield that allowed him to pinpoint Ceridwen’s location. She and her coven were separated from the rest of their forces and surrounded by Arbites. Though she held her own, the group was quickly becoming overwhelmed. They needed help- specifically, Ulfric’s help- or else this would be their final battle.

He saw the signal and had to act quickly. He broke past the squads of Arbites sprinting faster than any mortal of his size could ever achieve. Ulfric thumbed the activation rune on his force staff. As arcs of lightning surged up its hilt to the head, Ulfric swept wide, cleaving Arbite after Arbite. Though loyal to the Imperium, he never had any respect for the Arbites. Their harsh rule would only breed more resentment, cause more people to fall to chaotic corruption.

Closer, he was getting closer now. But there were still dozens of squads between him and Ceridwen. With that, he unleashed the power of the tempest as frost and lightning leaped from his fingertips, engulfing his foes in a torrent of cold and storm, leaving nothing but cold chard corpses in his wake. Almost there. Just one squad of bullgryns stood in the way ,now.

He could see Ceridwen and her coven, now, surrounded by fallen Arbites as they unleashed their psychic attacks. Still, the enemy forces just kept coming. She cried out as one grabbed her by the hair and pulled her down. At the prospect of losing her, Ulfric felt this icy shock he hadn’t felt since Ephrael disappeared, over five years ago. Not again. He wouldn’t lose anyone, not anymore. A guttural inhuman howl bellowed out from him. Acting on pure instinct rather than by choice, he ran even faster and leaped high as he leveled the force staff down on Ceridwen’s assailant, turning his foe's head into nothing but red mist.

“Let’s get you out of here!” He yelled over the sounds of battle.

“Not until we finish this!” she replied, getting back to her feet. She was certainly dedicated. “My Sky Warrior, I know we can succeed today.”

If it wasn’t for the adrenaline pumping through his body, Ulfric would have blushed at “My Sky Warrior”. He merely got to his feet and said “the comms tower should be our key target. If that falls, the enemy forces will fall into disarray.” Ulfric advised, “But the call is yours to make, Ceridwen.”

“I agree with you.” She turned to call the orders to her forces: they would attack the comms tower first, then attempt to take the rest of the fortress while the enemies struggled to regroup. “Thank you, Ulfric.”

\--

Another celebration was in the air after the successful attack on the Arbites fortress. Another bonfire built, more speeches and songs to honor the fallen. Cheers, laughter, and music filled the air. Ceridwen, however, retired early, exhausted from the day’s events and stressed by the prospect of advancing further. Despite his enjoyment of the party, Ulfric quickly missed her. 

He found her in her tent, where he had been staying with her for the past week, as it was the only shelter large enough to accommodate him. She was going over her long, red-blonde hair with a brush, frustrated and pulling hard on her hair in an attempt to get the tangles out.

Ulfric laughed. “Hey, Ceridwen, you don’t need to rip out your scalp just to deal with tangles, you know.” One of Ceridwen’s most striking features was her hair. Its length and color gave off the impression of a strong warrior queen, which she certainly lived up to. Ulfric sat next to her, fidgeting with his braid while he tried to hold back his blush.

She groaned and tried to tug the brush out of her hair. “I don’t suppose you’re going to be any help? This is impossible.” Having longer hair himself, Ulfric was a good person to ask.

Ulfric blushed. “I might actually be able to help. I learned how to do my hair from my sisters as well as some shieldmaidens and huscarls back on my homeworld. If you’d allow me I can assist.” He smiled awkwardly. He was clearly flustered and somewhat embarrassed to admit that.

“Would you really? You truly are a man of many talents, my Sky Warrior.” She offered him a smile that lit up her face as she offered him the hairbrush.

“Of course I will!” He took her brush in hand and for the moment laid it aside. “Since it seems like you have a few tangles, it’s best to run one’s fingers through the hair. Helps get rid of the larger knots.” He lectured. Ulfric started at the scalp, running his fingers through Ceridwen’s hair slowly, dealing with knots and tangles as he encountered them. This was true serenity for him, moments like this were what he treasured most after a victory.

She sighed in relaxation as he ran his fingers through her hair, finally allowing herself a moment of calm. She never would have imagined being this vulnerable around someone else, but after their battles together, her faith in her Sky Warrior was near absolute.

He was happy she enjoyed this. Ceridwen’s hair was luscious and soft. He could keep running his fingers through it forever, but he had a duty to complete. He reached for the hairbrush. “If I accidentally brush too hard, just let me know and I’ll slow down.” he reassured her. He began slowly brushing her hair, watching it straighten and shine more with each stroke.

“Um… Ceridwen…,” He hesitated, not sure how to ask.

“What is it, Ulfric?” She turned slightly to look at him, concern in her eyes.

"You have the most beautiful hair I’ve ever seen.” He blushed, thought, and then continued. “Why have you been calling me ‘my Sky Warrior?’ I really like it but it just seemed a bit sudden."

“Thank you. I’ve started calling you my Sky Warrior because, well… I’ll admit I’ve grown very attached to you. Your help has been valuable on the battlefield, and… I enjoy our time together. I’m glad to hear you don’t mind it.”

“I’m happy that you have appreciated my assistance. And…. and I believe the feelings are mutual. I haven’t had moments like this in quite a while.” Her hair was illuminated with the reflection of the candlelight off the just brushed hair. Framing her kind face, and pale blue eyes filled with intellect and curiosity. Ceridwen truly was beautiful, oh so familiar yet still unique. “Do you want me to continue?” He motioned at the brush. Not sure how to handle this situation he found himself in.

Her eyes flicked from his face to the brush, then back to his face. He could see the moment she decided to fully turn around and press her lips to his, kissing him with a recklessness he had never seen from her.

No matter how many times things like this occurred in his travels with the Lady Inquisitor, Ulfric never grew numb to it. His hearts beat faster and he embraced her kiss in full, putting a hand into her hair and gripping the bed. This was uncharacteristic for her, that much he had learned over their short time together. But this was something he could grow used to.

She pulled away from him, red-faced and breathless. “My Sky Warrior… it feels as though the tides of fate have brought us together.”

He ran his fingers through her hair. Catching his breath, he replied, “The Wyrd has done what it has always done.” He smiled and looked Ceridwen in the eyes. “I hope it guides us together onward.”

Seemingly inspired by this, she kissed him again, pushing him backwards onto the bed.


	7. Confrontation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ephrael meets with Albion's planetary governor. RP thread with ask-rune-priest-ulfric

While Ulfric was off gathering information, Ephrael and Cassandra, a Canoness of the Adepta Sororitas, had a different task: diplomacy. Neither were particularly excited about dealing with the planetary governor, and they debated whether to give him the benefit of the doubt, the fine line between “incompetent” and “malicious.” Cassandra was the one who first suggested executing him, and the prospect was tempting, but Ephrael needed to find out what was happening first and foremost. If it turned out that this was truly no fault of his, executing him would be pointless and only serve to increase the turmoil on the planet. It was hardly difficult to get to him, but the state of the people they saw on the way sparked a deep, righteous anger in Ephrael. It reminded her of what she could remember of her home, the way she and others were left to die as a daemon incursion ravaged the world. Whether the product of incompetence or malice, this simply couldn’t be allowed to stand.

The main office of Planetary Governor Cromwell was styled ostentatiously, filled to the brim with coats of arms and mementos from his family’s past accomplishments. None of these military honors were earned by him, of course, Cromwell was no military hero. He was a rotund noble who had clearly never worked a day in his life. All of this, added to the fact that the room constantly smelled of lho-stick smoke, made him all the more unappealing.

Receiving the vox call that a Lord Inquisitor was coming for a surprise meeting unnerved him a bit. He assumed this had to do with the call for help the astropaths sent out. He was hoping for maybe a guard regiment or two, but maybe this could be even better. He didn’t know much about this Inquisitor other than she went by the title Lady Inquisitor Rhiannon. He knew nothing of her deeds or what she had done to become a Lord Inquisitor. It was so difficult to get up to date information on this backwater feudal world. That, along with the constant issue of the Tuatha, constantly made his days miserable. Even though he had never even seen combat or commanded an army, he reveled at the idea of finally ridding this planet of those witches, as he had come to know them.

He pressed his finger onto the vox button before saying in a phlegm filled voice, “Ah yes, send for the serfs to bring the Inquisitor to the office. I look forward to meeting her.” He took another puff of his lho-stick followed by heavy coughing. 

Ephrael tried not to choke on the lho-stick smoke as she entered the office. It wasn’t a habit she personally indulged in, and she found herself disgusted by the smell. She scanned the room with barely-veiled disdain before her eyes fell upon the Planetary Governor. “I received a distress call from one Planetary Governor Cromwell, I assume that’s you. What exactly is the nature of the problem?”

The man sitting behind the desk coughed before replying. “Yes, that would be me. It’s nice to receive aid, but I didn’t expect to hear from an Inquisitor.” He snuffed out the lho-stick and motioned for Ephrael to take a seat. “But since you are here, would you like to hear about my ongoing issues with the forest people?” He said with a slightly fearful tone.

She took a seat across from him, as did Cassandra. Neither of them looked particularly at ease, but Ephrael gestured for him to elaborate. “Forest people?” That could mean daemons, but it could also mean any number of other things. It likely meant the people who sent the other distress call. “Please, explain.”

“Yes, the forest people, a bunch of savages, they are. Refuse to work on the farms like they should. And always attack us when we try to get lumber from those heinous forests. I swear the only thing they are good for is scaring the kids into behaving.”

Cassandra was the one who spoke up at this. “Can you explain, just wondering, why this isn’t a huge waste of our time?”

Ephrael nodded. “The general impression from your distress call was that your planet was in some kind of actual danger? Not… whatever this is.”

Cromwell began to worry at the Canoness and Inquisitor’s impatience. Beads of sweat dripped down his brow as he saw the Canoness begin to reach for her sidearm. Then, he remembered facts and evidence that possibly help him save his skin. “Well, I do have more pertinent information that has been gathered by hierarchy agents and officials.” 

He fumbled with some papers before pulling up a recent census. “From the limited information we have been able to gather from the native human population, we have discerned that their population is around 1.5 to 3 million people. Most concerning yet intriguing is that the natives have an extremely high percentage of psykers within their population. Around 20% seem to exhibit at least a low level of psychic awareness typically around epsilon and delta level. But the most alarming fact is that of this psyker population has an extremely high percentage of psykers of at least gamma level and higher. Their leader is of beta, possibly even alpha level.” As he rambled on, a secretary came in and handed him a holovid tape labeled “insurrectionist combat footage.” Then he waited with bated breath for the Lord Inquisitor's response.

Now that, that was interesting. Upon being ordered to play the footage, he quickly did so- and finally got to the core of _why_ he needed help. Uncontrolled psykers were in a state of rebellion, and, more importantly, they weren’t alone. Tzaangors fought alongside them, and, if this was left unchecked, a daemon incursion could be next. Despite the planetary government’s superior weaponry, the rebels secured a solid victory in the battle shown by the footage.

“You complete fool.” Cassandra stated and shook her head, before giving way to Ephrael’s rage.

“How incompetent do you have to be to let this happen? Such a high proportion of psykers could have been a benefit to mankind, but instead, you’ve incited them to rebellion? And if this isn’t resolved soon, you have no idea what could happen to this planet. Give me one good reason not to put a bolt in your head right now.”

“You think I haven’t tried to collect those psykers and herd them onto the blackships? I can’t do anything because those woods are a hellish place no guardsmen of mine can survive in! I will not be insulted by anyone, even by the likes of you!” As he said this he began to reach for the las pistol he kept beneath his desk.

Ephrael was faster. It was no surprise that her reflexes, after years of fighting and hunting daemons, were faster than those of a man who had never seen combat in his life. One shot rang out- one shot was all it took.

“Cassandra, get in touch with the fleet. I’m taking charge of this situation.”

"Yes, Lady Inquisitor."

She would wait until Ulfric's return before deciding how best to proceed.


	8. Thistle and Weeds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ulfric can't lie to himself any longer. Ceridwen is pushed further down the path to Chaos. RP thread with ask-rune-priest-ulfric. Implied NSFW.

More days had passed, almost 3 weeks Ulfric had been fighting in an army that was not his. He lied to himself, allowed himself to forget that the Red Cyclops had his hand in this conflict. But every dream ends, and despite what the wolf may believe, he does not control his wyrd.

Now they stood on the field of battle, the insurrectionists outnumbered and outgunned by the PDF. Ulfric looked up to the tree line and saw a familiar form that shook him to his very core: a pale blue humanoid form, head topped with horns, avian beak and legs in full splendor, blades in hand. Ulfric had seen this very foe in his fights against his legion's greatest nemesis: from skirmishes across segmentum solar and obscurus to the time when the Red Cyclops brought his fury down upon Fenris. The mortal chaff of the the Thousand Sons, tzaangors.

Amidst gunfire and mortar shells, Ulfric stopped where he stood, a look of defeat in his eyes. He could only muster one word: “No”. 

Even more jarring was the realization that Ceridwen had lied to him. She told him she hadn’t accepted help from the forces of Chaos, but she had. He had known from the beginning, but allowed himself to be in denial of it. But this was something he couldn’t ignore.

“My Sky Warrior, will you not join the fight?” Ceridwen’s voice shook him out of his thoughts.

He snapped back to reality, this would have to be dealt with later. “Yes, Ceridwen, I will fight, I just saw something out of the corner of my eye.” 

He thumbed the activation rune on his force staff, lightning arced across the head. He took a deep breath and waited for her command, keeping one ear open for the sound of the brayhorn, hoping to never hear it. His hopes were dashed when more tzaangors appeared behind the first one, and Ceridwen noticed them.

“It seems as though the Fomorians will be joining this battle. They are old enemies of my people, but in this war, they fight at our side.”

“Oh, that's wonderful, any ally is greatly appreciated in our struggle,” he lied. Ulfric knew this was the start of something bad, he knew it would only escalate. He did his best to hide it, but he knew that his warriors must make planetfall soon. He had learned much of the insurrectionists from these weeks, their strength, weaknesses, tactics, and local terrain. This diplomatic mission would fail. But he hoped to salvage what he could from it. He just needed a few more days.

The tides of battle turned quickly as the insurrectionists and tzaangors overtook the PDF troops, with Ceridwen and Ulfric leading the charge. Perhaps she could still be saved, perhaps she didn’t know what she was dealing with. He was lying to himself, of course.

He at the very least hoped to spend a few more days with her. Ulfric hadn’t heard much from Ephrael, but he knew she would be successful at her task. Hopefully that would be the only tzaangor incident he would encounter. He could only hope that he would see no other signs of chaotic corruption. But deep down, he knew he would be proven wrong.

“Well, does this victory call for another bonfire celebration or just a quiet night in the camp?” They grew to be far from quiet in that tent.

“My forces will want to celebrate, but if I had my way, I would celebrate alone with you.” She blushed. “I’ll be heading back to our tent as soon as I’m able to break away.”

That night after the festivities ended for the army as well as its leader, Ulfric found himself unable to sleep. The kind embrace of the sorceress as she slept, her hair scattered around her like a waterfall, helped to calm him, but his enhanced senses could pick up something prowling in the woods outside of the camp. It was coming closer. He didn’t want to wake Ceridwen. He slowly tried shifting out of her grip, hoping not to wake her. He heard what sounded like clicking and caws from the woods, not that of a razerwing or raven, no it sounded far more human than that. it was only as he tried to sit up from the bed that his sheer size caused it to creak, loudly.

This woke Ceridwen, who pulled the blanket around her as she sat up in bed, looking to him curiously. “My Sky Warrior, what is the matter? You look troubled.” Troubled was a mild way of putting it.

“I heard something outside. I think people are scouting or it could be an intruder.” It wasn’t a full lie. Ulfric just didn’t want to say what he knew it was. He donned a cloak and reached for his combat knife.

“We should go see what it is, then. Even if it’s not a threat, it will be better if we know for sure.” She stood and wrapped her black feathered cloak around herself. 

Ulfric slid the knife into its sheath, and they stepped out into the cool night air. The entire camp was asleep except for the occasional sentry. The pair walked out towards the woods behind their tent. He could hear them distinctly: the guttural, vaguely avian calls of the tzaangors- or rather, the “Fomorians”. They were audible to him, but most certainly not to Ceridwen. Her senses were not heightened like that of an Astartes. Ulfric could hear and smell them, but they remained out of sight. “Where are they? Show yourselves cowards,” he growled.

“What is it, Ulfric?” She couldn’t hear them, and didn’t know what he was talking about. “Do you know where they are?”

“I believe they are just around us. Within a few dozen meters. They’re just hiding.” Ulfric sniffed the air and caught one’s scent. He crouched slightly and mouthed to Ceridwen, “Stay still and quiet.” He could hear the closest one behind a tree not too far from his position. He prowled like a wolf stalking its prey, he didn’t pull out the dagger, not yet. He wanted to learn what it knew. Once he was within a few yards of the noise, he saw it. The recognizable silhouette of a tzaangor. Once it was within sight, he pounced.

Ceridwen watched in shock as Ulfric tackled the “Fomorian” to the ground. She tried to motion to him to stop, that he was attacking an ally, but it was useless. She had never seen him so enraged, just the sight of the tzaangor seemed to have angered him.

Ulfric pinned the tzaangor under his sheer weight, probably breaking a couple of its ribs in the process. “You’re lucky you aren’t already dead, spawn of the changed one.” Ulfric said as he stood back up, captured tzaangor in tow, as he began to walk back towards Ceridwen.

“Ulfric, what in all the worlds are you doing? The Fomorians are our allies, they fought alongside us today. What have they done to anger you?”

“This creature is one who works for my people’s greatest enemy. His kind participated in the burning of my world!” He growled, “His kind's presence here is a bad sign, Ceridwen!” He tried to calm himself, but was finding it difficult. “We need to interrogate him. Find out their motives.” He knew things were getting worse, but he hoped that Ceridwen could still be swayed.

“We’ll do no such thing. I don’t have the luxury of questioning my allies, you know that. We need their help. I don’t trust them, make no mistake, but until we win this war, I’ll accept their aid.” Her voice was infuriatingly calm, logical- almost cold. For the first time, he could believe she had knowingly lied to him.

Ulfric felt defeated. He knew this was the end, she was truly working with the dark powers and he was too blind to see it. His growl stopped, his face turned near stoic, with a look of sadness in his eyes. He released the tzaangor and simply told it, “Run," before turning back to the sorceress. "My apologies, Ceridwen. Let’s head back to the tent. Rest is important.” He wasn’t tired, Ulfric only had to sleep the fraction of the amount of time a mortal had to, but it was best to keep up the vague illusion. Just for a day longer.

“You’re right. My Sky Warrior, I truly am sorry. I didn’t know about your world. But surely, you can understand that the Fomorians here had no way of being involved?” She could tell she was losing him, trying to reason him back to her side.

“Yes… Surely,” said Ulfric as he made his way back to camp. This was it. His last night, when the fairytale ends and the wolf must return to his true calling.

He hopped back into bed, wanting to savor this final night as much as he could. She gave him a soft kiss as she curled up beside him, blissfully unaware of what was to come.

By sunrise, he was gone, nothing but a note left in his place.

“Ceridwen,

These past few weeks were a dream come true. I felt feelings I hadn’t felt in years and I know there is something beautiful between us. I wished for your people to overthrow your foul oppressors and bring a new rule to this world. But I allowed myself to forget what I had learned in those dreams.

You are and have been meddling in forces you do not understand, dangerous entities that will bring nothing but misfortune and dashed ambitions. You lied to me. And I lied to myself. I can only apologize for what will happen.

The Vlka Fenryka have come to Albion.”


	9. Know Your Enemy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ulfric returns to the Arete, where the Lady Inquisitor awaits. RP thread with ask-rune-priest-ulfric. Implied nsfw.

After his three weeks becoming intimately acquainted with the insurgents on Albion, especially their leader, Ulfric couldn’t lie to himself anymore. The Sainted Raven was working with the forces of Chaos. To what extent, he didn’t yet know- she had sought help from the tzaangors and from the Thousand Sons, but it was very possible she didn’t know what she was dealing with. It was truly a shame that there was only one way to save her, now.

Back aboard the Arete, he waited with excitement to see the Lady Inquisitor, to hear her voice. Her voice, however, was far from the smooth, commanding tone he knew and loved- it was curt and angry. “Where the fuck have you been?”

Ulfric blushed from embarrassment. “Um, a reconnaissance and infiltration mission to learn about the insurrectionists' tactics,” he stammered. He was always bad at hiding his emotions from Ephrael. She was one of the few non-Astartes he had a genuine connection with that went beyond trust on the field of battle. He loved her, in the best way an Astartes could- so she most definitely knew he wasn’t telling the full truth.

“Three weeks. Three throne-damned weeks without a word, and that’s all you’re giving me? Reconnaissance and infiltration? What the hell took you so long?” Her anger masked the fact that, beneath it all, she had been truly worried about him.

“I made the error of engaging too much with the insurrectionists. I should have remained neutral by watching from afar, but I became personally invested after infiltrating their ranks.” Ulfric responded. “I communicated with the higher-ups and leaders of the movement, though. And I learned about their tactics, culture, and technological abilities!” He tried to justify himself, but his face was quite red despite his best efforts. Just that fact said a lot to Ephrael already.

“Personally invested, huh. Who did you sleep with?” She knew him well enough by now.

“Their leader…” is all he said.

“I swear by all that’s holy, I’m going to kill you one of these days. Their leader? How the hell did you think that was a good idea?”

“I will admit, I wasn’t really thinking with my head. But she was remarkably kind and smart, and accepted my help willingly, making it easier to learn. And… she is very beautiful.” Ulfric was trying to hold back tears, he only ever cried when around Ephrael. Only she could make him feel safe enough to do so. “She made me feel valued and loved and appreciated. She remined me of…” he began to cry.

Her voice softened. “My love, don’t cry. I’m only angry because I was worried about you. I was close to going and looking for you myself. Above all, I’m happy you’re safe.”

His tears began to slow as he caught his breath. He couldn’t fully remember the last time she called him “her love”. So many things had happened since she returned, more than a few years have passed since they reunited but things were still turbulent from traumas during their times apart. “That makes me so happy to hear, Ephrael. But if I may be allowed to finish my thought: the sorceress reminded me a lot of you. I think that may be why it was so easy for her to sway me.” He smiled a toothy grin.

“Oh.” She blushed. “If we truly are so similar, I imagine the near future will be very interesting. The planetary governor is dead. I was waiting for you to return before I could decide how to proceed.”

“Thank you for waiting for me.” He began fidgeting with his braid as he contemplated. “Now, that will no doubt give the rebels a lot of hope once this news reaches them. Hope that could be exploited and crushed with precision killteam strikes meant to disrupt supplies and shatter morale. Making use of vanguard units would be best for this. What you wish to do with the forces under your command and the Sisters is up to you, but I want to try and use killteams for at least a few days before moving in the rest of the great company.”

“So there is no hope of compromising with the rebels? A shame. If that is the case, you’re correct that using killteams first would be most effective. The Sisters and I will stand by in case you need backup, but I doubt it will be necessary.”

“I wish using peace was an option, but I saw firsthand that the rebels are being supported by warherds of tzaangors. This and the fact that the Sorceress has possibly spoken with leaders of heretic Astartes warbands and maybe even Magnus the Red. I want to broker peace but they certainly already seem corrupted.”

“If that is the case, unfortunately, we must show no mercy. Are you prepared, Ulfric?”

"I will get into my proper warplate and head to the Naglfar to ready killteams. But if you wish, we could spend some time to… clear our heads… just for an hour or so."

"You're incorrigible."

"You love me for it," he grinned.

"True enough, but we have no time, now. We must act quickly. Will you be able to kill her, when the time comes?"

"Of course, Lady Inquisitor."


	10. Somebody Told Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A figure from Ephrael's past appears to tempt Ceridwen. Implied nsfw and suggestive phrasing because, well, Slaanesh. RP thread with ask-rune-priest-ulfric

Her coven was becoming worried. In the day following the departure of her “sky warrior,” Ceridwen had failed to so much as leave her tent. She had burned the note in a blaze of blue fire, in the palm of her hand. She had cried until she couldn’t anymore. And still, she found herself lacking the strength to rise and face her troops. It was entirely possible she had doomed them all by trusting him. 

But one messenger bore urgent news, news that needed to reach the Raven’s ears as soon as possible. The messenger ran as fast as he could nearly collapsing as he reached Ceridwen’s tent. He entered the tent and took out a scroll, catching his breath as he prepared to read it. “Blessed Saint, there has been news from the hierarchy that may be critical for our efforts. The planetary governor is dead, he was assassinated. Now, the entire command structure is in disarray. Different commanders and nobles are trying to get the seat. There has been so much upheaval that a few regiments of the PDF are planning on joining our cause, we might even get access to armories and a small manufactorum.” He had more news to give, but wished to hear the Raven's response before presenting it.

Hope sparked in her eyes. If the planetary governor had been killed, it could be just the opportunity they needed to seize control, if not of the planet then at least of a few cities, while the nobles struggled to control the situation. “This is excellent news, I thank you. I will inform our fighters at once, unless there is more you wish to tell me?”

“Yes, Saint, it isn’t much but there have been several patrols and some supply caravans that have been ambushed, leaving no survivors. There aren’t too many, but enough to make it worth addressing. The only traces the attackers left behind were the occasional large and deep foot print, as well as what appear to be bolter shell casings and deep cut marks on the dead, showing them being killed by larger than average bladed weapons.” He presents a bolter shell, covered in strange runes that are not in any language Ceridwen knows. “Here’s an example.” That was all the news he had. He now awaited her command.

Her expression hardened. “I see. You will not tell anyone else of this. I will decide how best to prepare our troops. Do not be afraid. Remember the fundamental truth: belief creates power. Put faith in our might, and we will prevail. Now, I will break the news of the governor’s death. Enjoy the celebrations, tonight.”

\--

Later on that night the celebrations commenced. These unknowing followers of Tzeentch would fall into their more base urges that night. Drinking, dancing, singing, and other more intimate forms of art. This drew the attention of another entity- while not a god herself, she certainly felt like an avatar for her own patron. Ishabella always kept tabs on Ephrael’s general location: always good to know where the person who hates you most lives. For one’s own safety, of course. But as she studied this little war Ephrael had gotten herself involved in, she felt a strong tingle go down her spine. “Oh… yes,” she moaned, “there is a party I must entertain.” She gathered her sorcerers, and they assisted her in astral projecting herself into the celebration on Albion. Ishabella put on her finest garbs, as in almost nothing except for fishnet stockings and a very tight fitting bodysuit. Her face already fully caked up, she instead quickly fluffed up her hair. As a demon prince her semi material form was quite malleable. She often took on the guise of a 12 to 14 feet tall demoness, minus the crab claws and tentacle hair. Her hair was pitch black, reaching down to her knee. Truly the only way to describe her form was with one word: “Perfection”.

She could already hear the Tuatha’s revelries, music to her ears. She decided to wait to appear, wanting to build suspense.

For the insurrectionists on world, the party continued, until it was noticed that some Fomorians and fae began to gather amongst the party. These beasts were different from what they normally encountered. These Fomorians were more like half-man-half-bulls, well built and of disturbing beauty, while the fae seemed like vaguely human women with pink skin and crustacean claws. The flames of every bonfire began to turn a deep violet. Now, Ishabella merely waited for a response from the crowds and leaders: build up and suspense were always key before the climax. 

The revelry was quickly overtaken by curiosity as the insurrectionists crowded around the central bonfire, some of the braver ones poking at it with tree branches as if that might trigger it to do something. The woman whom Ishabella had noticed was not partaking in the celebration approached the bonfire, and the crowd, in all their awe at the fire, parted for her. She was clearly the leader- the Raven she had watched from afar. Close up, Ishabella was almost disappointed by her appearance- her body was hidden by draped, mismatched blue cloth, her long hair was frizzy and tangled, and even the delicate features of her face were obscured by blue war paint. A shame- but she could work with this.

Ishabella smiled. The purple flame of the bonfire shot up in a several meter tall pillar. The insurrectionists backed off, trying to avoid getting burned, but the Raven stood her ground, no flame, ash, or ember hit her. The pillar of flame began to morph, within a minute it had taken on the vague shape of a shapely, well endowed woman. Black smoke rose out of the flame, yet instead of rising, the smoke began to fall like mist down to the flame figure's knees, fading off past that point. It gave of the impression of hair. And then, as a final touch, two burning golden coals rose from the the fire, ascending until they became a pair of bright golden eyes, contrasting the violet and black of the rest of the figure. Then it struck a pose, like one from one of those pinups she’d seen guardsmen carry around during her previous life. And then the figure spoke.

“Good evening, everyone!” It shouted, “I have come to partake in your beautiful celebration! I am Ishabella, the Scarlet Queen, and now the party can truly begin in full!”

The Sorceress on the other hand seemed to be having none of it. “Tell me, Ishabella, what is your true purpose here? We’ve had many celebrations like this one without attracting the attention of an entity like yourself.” For having just watched a daemon emerge from a bonfire, Ceridwen seemed unfazed.

Ishabella’s flame visage sat, still staring down at Ceridwen as she replied. “Oh, I merely wish to celebrate. As well as give myself and my warriors a grand show, so they can experience the excess of battle once again. They haven’t fought in like a month. They’re getting antsy.” She laughed a haughty noble laugh.

“Do you come to offer your assistance to us or to our foes? I’ve trusted too quickly in the past, and I will not make that mistake again. Should you aid us, you will be more than welcome at our celebration.”

Ishabella’s made the motion of sniffing the air, like a hound finding the scent of a fox. “Hmmm… what’s that I smell… oh yes, it’s the smell of a broken heart filled with nothing but hatred and vengeance.” She laughed. That feeling was something Ishabella fought against on a fairly regular basis. Its aroma was unmistakable to her.

“I fail to see how that is any of your business.” Ceridwen’s tone was defensive- Ishabella knew she had hit the mark. “Answer my question- on whose behalf have you come to fight?”

“Oh my, you darling little Sorceress, I have come to aid you of course! If you couldn’t tell by my little servants who are already on world. You don’t understand the foe you are facing. While the next couple weeks might be chaos, eventually the hierarchy will be lead by a far more capable leader who commands more authority than any governor ever could. She is a leader of flame, purging those like you with fire and faith. A hunter of neverborne like myself, a queen of wolves who follow her every command.” Ishabella explained. “Use this time to gather new forces and requisition new factories. If I may ask, who was it that broke your heart?” She grinned.

“In exchange for your assistance and for your warning, I will answer you. He was what he called a Sky Warrior, by the name of Ulfric. He aided us in several battles over a period of three weeks, but has turned on us. I know that he and others like him have been attacking our forces.”

“Oh, Ulfric. That sweet big puppy. Just like him to cling to any pretty girl. Ephrael probably had a field day with him.” She whispered. “He is a mighty warrior with a mastery of storms. What you call a Sky Warrior is actually called an Astarte. Space marines. His great company will be very difficult to fight. You haven’t seen them in full force yet. I assume you don’t have others coming to your aid? Or am I incorrect on that?”

“An Astarte…” Ceridwen mused. “Knowing the name of a thing is powerful, but perhaps not powerful enough to save us. Fortunately, we do have reinforcements on the way, from one whom Ulfric considers to be a great enemy. They should arrive soon.”

“Well well, that is truely lovely to hear. I wish you the best of luck. And just so you know, the assassin who killed the governor, she is the real one you need to fear.” She warned. “And darling little Sorceress, once I arrive, I will need to fix your getup. Trust me, you’ll look great!” She smiled.

“I- What? What is wrong with- Never mind, you will not distract me. I’ve dealt with enough spirits of the Other World that I know nothing, including information, is given without a catch or condition. What is yours?”

She smiled, seeing the Sorceress flustered was quite cute. “Oh, darling, I am more than just a spirit, I am a princess who ascended to near godhood. But, I have one condition. Give your soldiers the choice, once this war is over. If some choose to join me and worship the Prince of Pleasure, then let them. That is all I ask.”

“I do not bargain with souls that are not mine, but I will not prevent you from making your offer to my forces.”

“Fair enough, but for a bargain for your ‘soul’ I merely request to pretty you up once I arrive. You are already gorgeous, darling, but I can make you even better by enhancing your best traits.”

“Your conditions confuse me, but I will not question them. I fail to see how beauty will assist me in battle.”

“Well to be honest It’s mostly because I want to. But that Ulfric is such a softy. Beauty will be a very good weapon against him.”

“I no longer wish for him to look at me with lustful eyes. I wish to kill him.”

“Honey, I know that’s a lie. But whatever it takes for you to sleep easy at night.”

“Do you mock me? I speak the truth: he has betrayed me and my people, and I wish only to see him dead by my hands.”

“I just know these kinds of things. You really do remind me of Ulfric’s beloved. That same fire and passion, yet calm intellect that she possess when trying to hunt me.”

“I’ve been informed. You say she is the one I need to be concerned with?”

“Yes she is. Darling little Sorceress, have you ever heard of the Inquisition?” Her large flame body bounced on its toes, and put a finger to the side, her smoke hair flowing and bouncing with every movement.

“I have. It was a threat often levied against my people, but one that was never followed through. Why would an Inquisitor kill the Planetary Governor, only to side against us?”

“Because his actions caused your rebellion to occur in the first place. the Inquisition answers only to the Emperor himself. The planets military forces will fall under control of a skilled tactician with a vast knowledge on the nature of the forces you are working with. That is a mighty foe indeed. Inquisitors act on their own accord, only held accountable by their peers. Then, there are Lord Inquisitors who hold almost unlimited authority. You are facing a Lord Inquisitor and the forces under her control, from the PDF to any Astra Militarum forces she contacts, to a convent of Adepta Sororitas, and last but not least, The Silver Fangs."

Ceridwen blanched. “If that is the case, how can we win this war?” Now, that was exactly the question Ishabella had been waiting for.

“Simple: embrace your abilities, seek power from the warp. Let the forces of chaos come to your aid, yours to control. I give you my slaangors and daemonettes to lead until I arrive. The Prince of Pleasure is my patron. Now you must find yours, and after seeing what creatures live in those woods, it’s pretty clear who you should seek favor from.”

She knew. In her grimoire, passed down through her family line since before the Imperium came to this world, there were references to the four Dark Gods. One had always stood out to her- the Changer of Ways. “I have heard his call since I was young. Still, the danger is great.” She had no delusions about the risks of embracing Chaos. Only if she had no other options would she consider seeking favor from one of the Dark Gods.

“Your will must be strong Sorceress, or else risk the fate of spawndom. The path to glory is treacherous and long. And I wish you the best of luck.” And with that the feminine figure lost its shape. The purple flame roared as it returned to its normal shape, the purple slowly fading away.

The celebration had long since resumed while the sorceress spoke to the figure in the flames. Rather than taking part, Ceridwen retired to her tent and flipped through her grimoire until she reached the chapter she was looking for.

Just in case.


	11. Only Human

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Wolf hunts the Raven. Ulfric and Ceridwen discuss psykers. Graphic but canon-typical violence alert.

As twilight began to fall across Albion, the forests sprang to life with color as bioluminescent insects, trees and mushrooms gave a dim kaleidoscope of light across the wilderness. Among the trees, the Raven’s disciples roosted, set in ambush waiting for the first wolf to cross their path. Those angels of death had brought sword and bolter down upon the insurrectionists. Hundreds of their own fell for every wolf that perished. But now, they would get revenge. The warriors were arrayed in regalia reminiscent of a raven, armed with auto guns and steel sickles meant to resemble talons. There were at least a dozen of them, hidden amongst the canopy, their eyesight trained to see well in low light conditions. After nearly 2 hours of waiting, they saw it: a new pair of lights amongst the forest floor. Two red lights, clearly eyes, looked up, as if the creature bearing them could already see the disciples. 

The marine behind those eye lenses unholstered his bolt pistol, then went for the sword at his hilt but hesitated- no need to dull the blade until he found his main target. In the dim light, it could be seen that this was one of the primaris, wearing a hide robe, his armor adorned with shining rune stones and wolf talismans. The disciples pounced, but despite the advantage of surprise, they would soon realize their mistake. As the assailants charged, four collapsed as bolt shells collided with them. The other eight unsheathed their weapons to strike at the marine, but were dodged by the Astarte’s superior reflexes. With each attempted strike, another one of their number fell, crushed by the unarmed strikes that hit them like wrecking balls. Within a matter of seconds, only one remained breathing, his leg crushed by a sweeping kick from the warrior. Towering over him, the Astarte stared down at him, silent. 

The wolf decided to end the warrior’s life swiftly out of respect. He reached down and grabbed him by the neck. The warrior let out a small “mercy,” before the wolf shattered his spine and windpipe. One of the fallen warriors head had been slightly caved in. The wolf removed his helmet and took a bite out of the brain. The memories began flowing in as he evaluated them, flashes of battlefields and bonfire celebrations, and a reoccurring face- these were the body guards of the sorceress who led this rebellion. The final and freshest memory became clear: that of a war meeting between the sorceress and her coven. They were nearby, and he already had the trail. 

The Space Wolf put back on his helmet as the lenses came to life, shining the forest in a light of green night vision. All he said was, “It’s time to end this,” as he disappeared into the night, on the hunt for the Sainted Raven.

The Raven knew, of course, that she was being hunted. Her trusted “Sky Warrior” had brought down the angels of death upon her world. Should she ever see him again, she would make him pay dearly for every life he had taken on this planet. She thought of what the figure in the flames had said. She thought again of the forbidden pages of her grimoire. But no- she hadn’t run out of options just yet. Not quite yet.

Heavy footfalls and the crunching of underbrush echoed through the forest, fast approaching the Raven and her coven. Their only advantage was that of knowing their terrain- should the situation necessitate retreat, they could easily vanish among the dense trees, confusing the wolf just enough to buy them time to escape. Escape, not victory, was the best they could hope for in a confrontation with what the figure in the flames had called an “Astarte.” They knew that well, by now.

The Space Wolf had a visual on the Sorceress and her entourage. He readied his runic sword and thumbed the activation rune. Energy arced across the sword as it hummed with the power of the marine’s will and that of the storm. The vox inside his helmet went off as he received a message, “Incursor packs are ready to assist you.” 

The wolf replied, “Merely have them cut off escape, I wish for the kill to be delivered by my own blade.” 

He was close enough to the Sorceress now to hear her. The wolf let out a guttural howl as he leapt from the tree line, plunging his sword into the first unsuspecting psyker. The frail woman fell on her side, lifeless as the rune blade was pulled out. Before the body hit the ground, the wolf leaped for a squad of insurrectionists, cutting them down piecemeal as the air around him grew colder. With every step, a light layer of hoarfrost remained on the ground. The Sorceress was almost certain to know of his presence. That was exactly what he wanted.

The Sorceress turned with horror in time to watch the slaughter of her forces. Quickly, she called her three advisors to her side- her coven, her closest inner circle. Together, they launched volleys of psychic energy at the advancing warrior, desperately hoping to slow his approach, to no avail. Finally, the masked Raven stepped forward with her staff, one hand outstretched in a placating gesture.

“Astarte, what quarrel have you with my people? That you would cut us down like grain? That you have come from beyond the stars to visit death upon us?”

The wolf halted, he would humor her with a conversation. His voice was echoed and distorted by the helmet’s vox grill. “I am one of the Emperor’s executioners, tasked with hunting down the enemies of mankind since my induction into the Vlka Fenryka. My quarrel is simple, Sorceress: you have fallen from the Allfather’s light by practicing foul sorcery in the service of the ruinous powers. That is why we hunt you. None are innocent among those who fall down the path to corruption.” 

He placed his runic sword tip first into the ground, placing his hands on the hilt like a suit of armor in an old Terran castle, his photolenses glowing bright red in the dark night of the forest. The Astarte towered over the sorceress and her coven. But for now, he seemed calm.

“So you are hypocrites as well as killers. I feel the touch of the Other World upon you as well. You take care to disguise it- such care that your aura is headache-inducing, which means you must know of it. When we harness the powers of the Other World, you call us corrupted. What do you call it when you do the same?”

The wolf hesitated for a moment before responding. “I do not harness the power of the Sea of Souls as you do. I merely commune with the spirits of Fenris and make use of their power. I write runes that affect the material world through their imbedded meaning and intent. If my aura is giving you migraines, then clearly my runes and talismans work. I fight against evil magicks through communion with the spirits of my world. Do not compare me to you, for we are nothing alike.” His voice sounded aggravated, it seemed like the Sorceress had hit a nerve.

“You are deluded, Astarte. There is only one Other World from which spirits come, and I sense its trace upon you. Not only that, I feel you have been called by the Forbidden Ones before. You have no right to condemn me, for we are the same.”

“No, Sorceress, you are the one who is mistaken. I am a noble rune priest of the Rout. A warrior scribe, a skjald, but most certainly not a foul sorcerer.” He snapped back. The hoarfrost around him was growing, the tip of the runic sword white in color in the sea of blue, cold air freezing the ground beneath it. “I am a mighty Astarte, untouched by the foul forces that seek to corrupt you!” He growled furiously. There were some truths to her claims, but those were memories long since buried in the rune priest’s mind.

“You lie, even to yourself! You are called by the same one who calls me, and yet neither of us answer. You bargain with spirits, you call upon the Other World. Now you are angered because I have unmasked your delusion. Will you regress to pretended ignorance? Or will you admit that we are one and the same?”

A torrent of cold shot from the swords tip, impacting against one of the druids, shooting him back several feet. The cables on the marine’s armor glowed an icy blue as lightning arced around the figure's hood. The frost around the marine grew thicker with each step forward he took, sword in hand. He raised his free hand and, as if from nowhere, two apparitions appeared, vaguely in the shape of large wolves, as he shouted, “Slaughter the weakened one. The woman is for me!” They pounced on the wounded druid, tearing him to shreds, then they circled the other two druids, ignoring the Raven.

He howled with anger and fury as he sprinted toward the Sorceress. “Fight me, witch!” His vox grill still distorted his voice, but the fury and bravado in his tone sounded somewhat familiar to the Sorceress.

“Coward! The truth frightens you!” Her staff coursed with warp-fire, and with a shout of rage, she swung clear at the ember-eyed helmet that loomed above her. There was a cracking sound, and the staff splintered, but so did the helm, as snow swirled around them and frost crunched under the Raven’s feet.

The Astarte’s path was altered from the sheer force of the staff’s swing that he fell forward, snow crunching beneath his armor as he quickly rose to his feet sword raised, but now his face was revealed, no longer hidden behind his helm, a large chunk that went from the forehead, down the face and ending at the vox grill revealed his face to the Sorceress. His long blonde hair tumbling out of the hole, the tight braids falling loose from the warp-infused strike, the Astarte’s pale smooth face and icy blue eyes were an unmistakable image to her. In his anger the wolf swung his sword and shattered her staff as she blocked. He growled with fury but there were tears in his exposed eye. There was no doubt- it was Ulfric.

“My Sky Warrior, you will die by my hand. But not today. Today, you have revealed your true nature to me. You are a coward and a hypocrite. You have deluded yourself regarding your power. You think yourself different from me? We are the same, my Sky Warrior, I’ve seen enough of you to know.”

Ulfric, with tears in his eyes, stared down at Ceridwen, the anger and sadness being replaced by nothing but pity and contempt. “Ceridwen, the Blessed Raven Saint of Albion, that is where you are mistaken. I will end this here and now!” He yelled. 

He stepped forward, preparing to kill her, for his beloved had told him to do so. Before Ceridwen could react, Ulfric grabbed her by the shoulders and hips, lifting her up horizontally as she struggled. He tried to slam her down on his knee, but before his very eyes, Ceridwen exhibited just a fraction of the sheer power of her psychic abilities. 

In the blink of an eye, and a flash of blue light, she was gone, along with the surviving members of her coven. Ulfric and the two wolf spirits sniffed the air, but there was no trail- they were gone. She had used the Warp to escape. There was nothing to be done.

Nothing but to linger on what she had said.


	12. A Yule Saga, part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ulfric enters a mysterious cave and is confronted with the secrets of his past. RP with ask-rune-priest-ulfric. Canon-typical violence.  
> This is a bit of a weird one, as I'm dividing this section into three parts, which will possibly alternate with chapters about other characters. I had to do this because just this one chapter is half the length of the entire rest of the fic up until now. Enjoy!

The snowy forests of Albion were vast, and Ulfric traversed them with a singular companion. Troubled by the lingering of the Raven’s words in his mind, and curious about the psychic activity on Albion, he and the Wolf Priest Fafnir had ventured a great distance from the Naglfar. They had long passed the villages and encampments of the Tuatha, seeking out the source of the great psychic presence they could both feel at the heart of the planet. The forest was overgrown, thick brush and vines threatening to trip them up, dim light barely filtering through the canopy. Still, they pressed on.

Lost in thought, Ulfric barely caught his balance as he stumbled over something he first thought to be a stone. A closer look revealed it to be a helmet- an ancient thing, power armor far older than his own. The photolenses were cracked, and vines grew through the gaps. It was a dull grey, the kind his brothers would have worn some thousands of years ago. Stunned, he gestured for Fafnir to look- but Fafnir pointed to the large clearing in front of them, ending abruptly at a sheer cliff on the side of a mountain. Bits of red and grey armor dotted the lush forest floor, tangled in tree roots and other vegetation, but those were not the only things- some helmets were of a telltale shape: that of the Aeldari. Undoubtedly, a momentous battle had taken place here. They approached the cliff, drawn unconsciously to the opening of a large cave.

Finally, the Wolf Priest spoke. “The veil thins here. I can feel hundreds of souls calling out from the depths of the mountain. They call for you. I know not why.”

“Then I must answer. Come, Fafnir, together we will unravel the mystery of this world.”

“I sense, Ulfric, that this is your quest alone. I must not follow you into the mountain, but I shall remain in this clearing and communicate with you, should you need a tether. I sense this is a place of great power.”

“You are right, Fafnir, I sense it as well. Should this be my quest, I will accept it.”

“Be sure to keep your wits about you. The source of the call may be one that wishes harm upon you.”

“If that is the case, I will gladly seek it out and teach it regret. I will emerge from the cave again, for the sake of my brothers and my beloved.”

“Then may the blessing of the Allfather be with you.”

With the Wolf Priest’s approval, Ulfric ventured into the cave. When faced with multiple paths, he concentrated, listening for the call of a thousand tormented voices, and followed it deeper into the mountain. Deep within the pitch-black of the cave system, Ulfric turned a corner to see a slight blue glow. As he followed the path toward the light, the stone walls began to give way to translucent, shimmering crystals in shades of blue ranging from turquoise to indigo. Before long, the narrow passage opened up into a large crystal chamber. Huge pillars of glassy mineral connected the cave floor and high ceiling at seemingly random angles. In the walls, he saw armored bodies helplessly encased. Some wore the grey armor of his ancient kin, but others wore red- with a start, he recognized the symbol of the sun on their pauldrons. Long in this world’s past, his brothers had fought alongside those who were now their great enemy. And now, frozen in the crystal as if it was ice, they both called to him.

Through his vox, Ulfric communicated with Fafnir. “Allfather’s bones, I have found a truly strange sight, brother- what appear to be legionnaires trapped within the crystal. There’s even a dreadnaught.” The psychic might overwhelmed Ulfric’s senses, nearly causing him to black out. “Their voices call out to me in an unending cacophony, all wishing for their story to be told. A saga of war, comradery, betrayal, and isolation. I do not know what to do, brother. “ 

He walked forward and placed a hand on the crystal, etching the rune of speech onto it. The smooth crystal of the walls shone brightly, suddenly opaque, then began to display a scene of biting wind and heavy snow, as if the vision was being projected from every angle onto the surfaces of the cave. The distinct form of an Astarte was taking shape before him, though he could not distinguish its features.

“Let me show you the truth of your past, Ulfric Seidrfang.”

The voice was none other than Fafnir’s- but that was impossible.

“Fafnir, is this some kind of joke? What am I even saying? How? Why are you here? And…” He went silent, absorbed his surroundings. Ulfric could feel the cold Fenrisian air around him, the howling wind, and hear the crunching of snow under his feet. “…where am I?”

“Ah, young one. The correct question would be, when are you?”

Fafnir’s voice wasn’t coming from the vox- it was coming from the apparition. The apparition was even beginning to become more like Fafnir in appearance.

“Do you not recognize your home?”

“I’m not that young anymore, uncle Fafnir. And- did you say when?” 

He could certainly recognize his home, this was Fenris. The icy cold, choppy seas and harsh winds were unmistakable.

“Oh, but you were young when we met,” responded Fafnir, choosing not to answer Ulfric’s question. “Do you remember? No, I think not. I do not blame you. The memory is one that any sane man would rather forget. But you cannot hide from the truth, young one.”

As they walked through the snow, the sounds of battle reached Ulfric’s ears.

“Is that a village on the horizon? It’s burning! Fafnir, we must help them!” Ulfric urged Fafnir forward. It seemed like he didn’t fully realize the true nature of the situation at hand. He heard the firing of bolter shells, the battle cries of warriors, the death wails of villagers and the faint smell of ozone in the air. In his eyes, Ulfric had a duty to uphold, as a rune priest, as a space wolf.

“Be wary, Ulfric, lest you see something you will regret knowing. This village’s destruction has already come to pass. It exists no longer.” Even as he talked, the apparition followed Ulfric to the scene of the burning village. What Ulfric hadn’t expected to see was his own battle-brothers on the attack against the villagers. He looked on in horror as blood claws and grey hunters mercilessly cut down innocent tribesmen, trying to hide their wives and children. Ulfric tried to call out to the marines, to order them to stop, but they didn’t react- as if they did not even perceive his presence.

There was nothing he could do as the tribesmen were killed. Then he saw it. A bolt of lightning shot past him, killing one of the blood claws where he stood. He turned to see three women hurling bolt after bolt to stop the marines in their tracks. One of the women, a tall woman with one icy blue eye and another one milk white, stepped forward, unleashing a series of chain lighting that incapacitated a squad of grey hunters. There was something about her that looked familiar to Ulfric. Her hair was blonde, and done in an elaborate braid that reached to her waist, the style of braiding and her facial features reminded Ulfric of himself. 

They were, of course, doomed to fail. They couldn’t stand up against the force of the Vlka Fenryka for long, but Ulfric watched them fight against the odds. The blonde woman, who appeared to be the leader of the three, shouted commands at the others: to fight until the end, defending their village and children. To destroy the enemy or die trying. With the ferocity of a mother wolf, she unleashed another series of chain lightning against a charging group of blood claws.

“Is she familiar to you, young one? Or have you yet to put the pieces together?”

“She seems to be able to call on the power of the tempest like I can. But a lot of people can do that. Fafnir, if you really are him, why do you show me this? Why would our chapter kill our own people?” Ulfric asked.

“It was our only choice. They had turned to the worship of the ruinous powers. They could not be allowed to live.”

As the blonde woman fell, a child took her place, determination writ across his small visage as he stood defensively in front of two young girls, all three of them with the same blonde braids. A much larger figure approached them, and the child braced for a blow that never came, shaking but defiant hands clutching a too-large knife. Ulfric recognized the larger figure- it was Fafnir. Younger, definitely, but unmistakably the Wolf Priest he had known for as long as he could remember.

Ulfric was beginning to finally understand just where and when this was. This was home, his home, one he had forgotten during his years as an aspirant. That small child was him, defending his sisters from the Sky Warriors. That woman was the high seer of his tribe, and his mother. They worshipped the typical Fenrisian wolf gods and the Allfather- but also the Lord of Crows, as they called it, the teacher of the use of seidr magic.

“Why were my sisters and I allowed to live, Fafnir?”

“It was determined that you children posed no threat, and could be raised free of corruption. Your bravery in particular endeared you to myself and the others who were there on that day. When we tried to take you back to the Aett, you fought against us until we relented and brought your sisters as well. We knew you had a strong will and fighting spirit, Ulfric Seidrfang.”

All of this was like ripping open a wound that had healed a decade past. As if this was a scar long since faded finally coming to the surface. “I do not remember these days of my past. Most blood claws forget much of their pasts, but never the entirety of it. Was I special, Fafnir? Did you make sure I could not remember my past?” There was a genuine tremble in his voice. 

The apparition put on a sorrowful face. “Young one… I am sorry. There was little else to be done. If you had remembered the sorcery practiced by your people, you may have become corrupted. I hope that you can forgive me.”

Ulfric considered pushing further into the questioning but this was not the time or place. He would have to question Fafnir later. The real Fafnir. “Spirit, I do not know what you are trying to tell me. If you are here to teach me a lesson, it has not reached me.” 

“You fail to comprehend my meaning, still?” The spirit’s appearance flickered somewhat- Fafnir was briefly replaced by an Astarte in red armor- but quickly stabilized once more. “My lesson is yet lost on you? I suppose this could never be easy. Do you remember your Trial of Morkai, Ulfric Seidrfang?”

“I do remember drinking from the Cup of Wulfen, yes, and being thrown into the wilds, but my time in the Gate of Morkai is a blur, as well as my time lost in the wilds. I just remember reaching the Aett after roughly a week from what I was told.”

“You spent a very long time in the Gate of Morkai, young one, we were unsure you would survive. But that is a story for another time. You do not remember how you survived the wilderness?” The scene around him was shifting- still clearly Fenris, but a different location on the planet. A single figure was visible in the wilderness, blonde braid whipping in the harsh wind.

“Oh, shit. That’s me.” 

For a moment, the apparition’s voice was not the patient tone of the Wolf Priest. “Your talent for stating the obvious is astounding, Ulfric Seidrfang.” Quickly, though, the spirit corrected itself. “Yes, that is you, young one.”

“I guess this is where I learn another strange fact of my past.” Ulfric started walking towards his younger self- more muscular now, but for a space marine neophyte, he was on the smaller side.

“Indeed, Ulfric.” The younger version of Ulfric seemed unaware of their presence. The night was full of echoing howls and biting wind as the neophyte made his way through the deep snow. Suddenly, the sound of something large rustling nearby alerted him.

Ulfric could only watch as a large white wolf leapt from the snow to attack his younger self. Ulfric vaguely remembered this, deep within his subconscious. The wolf tackled him and tried to rip out his throat, young Ulfric barely holding it back. Then it happened. A gust of wind shot from Ulfric’s palms, pushing the wolf backwards. Baffled and awestruck, the neophyte stared down at his hands as the wolf rose from the snow again. When the wolf launched itself at him once more, young Ulfric’s eyes shone as lightning coursed across his body and down his arms. Instinctively, he put his hands in front of him, and a blast of electricity and ice struck the wolf in the chest, leaving a charred hole in its torso as it crashed to the ground. The neophyte stumbled backwards, stunned at his own power.

“Yes, young one, this is how you survived your Trial. You were not as strong or as savage as those who would become your brothers, but you were gifted in ways they were not. Even now, the nature of your gift eludes you, as it did then.”

The message this spirit was trying to communicate was still somewhat lost on Ulfric. “Just what is it you’re trying to tell me spirit? I have at least deduced you are not really Fafnir. But why show me my past?”

The spirit’s voice changed again. “You are thick, even for a son of Russ. Do you still not grasp my meaning? Then perhaps it is time to leave this lesson, for now, and remind you of something different.”

The apparition began to change again, from the Wolf Priest to a smaller figure, still authoritative in bearing. “Or don’t you recognize me? By the throne, Wolf, have you forgotten me so soon?”

“Diomedes- it’s been a while since I’ve seen that face.” Ulfric responded with a kind smile.

“That’s more like it.” The Inquisitor grinned. “And what of Ephrael? I recall when she met you, you know. It was on a world much like this one, her first mission alone. And you were little more than a pup!” He laughed, even as the scene around them shifted.

“I was young back then. Only had been a Rune Priest for a few years at that point. By the Allfather’s bones, how long ago that was.” Ulfric took in the familiar sight, the town with the Space Wolf outpost within the nearby mountains.

“She was an… interesting one, when you met.” Diomedes chuckled. “Fiery, certainly.”

Another silhouette was taking shape in the projection- a young woman with a long braid and a short, full skirt. He recognized her in an instant, as well as the overconfidence she exhibited as she approached an armored figure.

Ulfric couldn’t fully remember what he had said that day. He would only hope he didn’t make a fool of himself in this first impression. “Did you need something, miss?”

“Oh, good! Um, ahem- as an Inquisitor, I request your assistance dealing with a threat on this world.” She straightened up her posture and almost seemed to be trying to look down on him. Of course, with him a good two feet taller than her, it mostly gave the impression that she was wildly out of her depth and trying to hide it.

Ulfric was smiling, though he knew his past self had been taken aback. Luckily, his past self was wearing a helmet at the time. “Inquisitor, I am afraid I was unaware of your arrival. My name is Ulfric Seidrfang, Rune Priest of the Space Wolves. I will provide assistance, should this be a worthwhile pursuit.” This brought back memories. Ulfric looked over to Diomedes as if seeking retroactive approval for his behavior around his adopted daughter. 

The Lord Inquisitor just shook his head with an amused smile as Ephrael spoke. “I’m attempting the dangerous task of uprooting the sinister powers that have taken hold of this world. I require backup, from you and as many of your brothers as possible, to take down a large cult worshipping the Ruinous Powers before they cause irreversible damage to this planet.”

“I will gather my small band of warriors and we will provide help where we can, Inquisitor, but my brothers may not take kindly to your arrogance.” Ulfric cringed at his past self’s words.

“Thank you for the warning- ah- What was your name again?” Ephrael’s tone betrayed genuine, apologetic curiosity, rather than condescension.

“Call me Ulfric.”

She offered him a smile, and Ulfric could pinpoint the exact moment his past self’s heart melted. “Ulfric. I hope you prove a worthy companion.” 

“And did you?” Diomedes asked.

Before he could answer the Lord Inquisitor, a scream split the air, raw and ragged, despairing and enraged, piercing even over the sudden din of combat that filled Ulfric’s senses as the scene on the walls shifted. Cadia. Before him was a sickeningly familiar scene, one that had haunted him long after its occurrence. The source of the horrible scream was none other than Ephrael, as she witnessed her mentor and adoptive father torn in two by lightning claws. Shaking with desperation and rage, she rushed past Diomedes’s lifeless and mangled form to attack the terminator responsible for his death, only to be knocked back with what must have been a rib-shattering blow. As she staggered, Cassandra ran to her side, helping her stay upright- but pulling her away from the fight, even as the Inquisitor struggled. 

“This is suicide, Ephrael!” Ulfric’s past self shouted. “Cassandra, get her to the lifepods!” Cassandra, despite Ephrael’s sobs and curses, agreed.

“This is where I believe I failed. We were unable to save your life, Diomedes. In a desperate act of vengeance, Ephrael tried to kill the Black Legion terminator on her own. We did our best to escape. Cassandra took her to the lifepods while I fought alongside the Ironwolves. That was the last time I saw her for over a decade. I assumed she died out in the void or the warp. I hunted the Black Legion endlessly to find her, or to avenge her. I failed her, Diomedes, plain and simple.” Ulfric hung his head.

“You nearly did fail her, Wolf, that much is true. You disregarded your own life in the hunt.”

The apparition was changing again- back to the proportions of an Astarte, this time in white armor. “We almost lost you, Seidrfang, what were you thinking?” The voice was familiar- that of the Ultramarine apothecary who had traveled for some time with Ulfric and the Inquisitor. In the crystal visions, Ulfric could see his own body, bloody and broken. He had been attacked by possessed marines while leading new intercessors in combat. He had done his best to protect his brothers, but had nearly succumbed to his inner beast while fighting the neverborn. Though he had killed the last of them, he was left on the brink of death, himself. In a coma-like state, he lay on the table, surrounded by Wolf Priests- and Eclesius himself. 

“What shall we do now?” lamented an adept. “Not even a dreadnought could act as life support with these injuries.”

Fafnir had prepared healing balms, but Eclesius interjected. “We could always try the Calgarian rites.”

“Not a chance,” retorted Fafnir, “I will not turn my closest protege into one of those damned primaris! There must be another way.”

“This was my second chance, Eclesius,” mused Ulfric as he watched the vision. “Another chance to be the warrior I promised to be.” The process had been painful, taking weeks for his body to heal, grow, and change. Like all who underwent the Rubicon Primaris, he died on the operating table, only for the belasarian furnace to force him back into the world of the living. “While my soul teetered on the edge of the abyss, I sensed that Ephrael was still alive. And this new body was my weapon,” He stretched out his arm and clenched his fist, “My instrument to fulfill my promise.”

“You’re lucky we were able to save you after your monumentally idiotic self-sacrificing revenge quest,” the spirit snapped in Eclesius’s voice. “What drove you, Seidrfang? Not a hatred for the enemies of man, but a hatred for those who had done you a personal injury. A protective force with nothing to protect, a fierce rage against those who took something from you. You would have died for her, and you damn well tried, even knowing it wouldn’t retrieve her from the depths of the warp.” Its voice sounded less and less familiar as it continued, “I wonder, had you been tempted by the enemies of man with the promise of her return, what choice you would have made.”

“I just wanted her back. I cannot say what I would have done if the ruinous powers offered to help me. I know enough about myself to know I’m unsure. I strive to protect those I care about, and protect those who can not protect themselves.”

“And yet my lesson is lost on you. Do you still not understand, Ulfric Seidrfang? Are you truly this dense?”

“What lesson? That I’m from a chaos-worshipping tribe? I’m not the only marine who was recruited from a feral world’s population. Or is it that I care about my beloved? I guess for you I am dense! If I even truly am a psyker, can you blame me for not knowing? All of my superiors believe the same thing! Why are you showing me these things, Spirit?” He growled in frustration.

“Because you still believe yourself superior, Ulfric Seidrfang. That is the point. But I see I have angered you rather than educated you. For that, you have my sincerest apologies. Perhaps another of us will have more success.”


End file.
